Check Mate
by Paper Pearls
Summary: Hermione and Hermione experience a painful revelation; they cannot stand hearing Ron say the m word- and it's worse than mudblood- so action must be taken. How much damage can one four letter word do? This is a parody and I do Ron bash.


**This is my response to Day 3 of Sinistra Black's "Day By Day/Sheherazad" Challenge on dialogue. I decided that since this is going to be humorous (at least I hope it is), I would make it a parody which highlights one of my bugbears in fanfiction. If you use the technique I'm about to decimate then I apologise in advance, but it makes my teeth hurt. **

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Harry Potter had seen many terrifying things during his time in the wizarding world; dementors, death eaters, a basilisk, Hagrid kissing Madam Maxim, giant flesh eating spiders, Lord Voldemort... the list seemed to grow every day, but the dread that each of these memories evoked in him was nothing compared to how the look on Hermione's face made him feel. She looked absolutely furious as she slammed the Fat Lady's portrait back into place, and a group of first years scattered as she made a beeline for Harry. He gulped. He couldn't recall having done anything to make her this angry, but that didn't mean that he hadn't- girls always thought of _something_ that annoyed them.

Hermione dropped her book bag onto the armchair beside his but didn't sit down, pacing back and forward before the fireplace. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing with frustration when it slipped back out. It was with trepidation that Harry opened his mouth.

"What happened?" He shrunk back into the plush chair as she whirled to face him. Hermione's knuckles were white, tightly clenched around her wand which was giving off red sparks. Why was it that girls always said they wanted to talk about problems but really it put them in a particularly vicious mood?

"It's over." Hermione's voice was calm and the tension left her shoulders. When she smiled, warmth replacing the cold fury in her eyes, Harry didn't know whether or not to be glad. He realised that he hadn't seen her look this happy ever since she had started dating Ron.

"What?"

"I saw Ron and, what's her name, Lavender, together." It was said so matter-of-factly that Harry wondered if his hearing had been impaired somehow. Hermione would normally be livid if another woman so much as flirted with her boyfriend, but she was utterly at peace.

"Together, as in _together_?" Despite himself, Harry felt curious. If it had been anything improper then Ron was most likely dead by now, and Hermione was feeling satisfied because she had killed him. He had read about people who snapped and killed their boss before continuing with their day as normal. Sure enough Hermione had sat down and opened a thick, tea stained book. Her eyes scanned the page rapidly and as she absorbed the information her expression became pensive.

"Worse." Hermione didn't look up, turning the page with relish. This was the strangest experience of Harry's life.

"What could be worse?" It was with difficulty that Harry managed to keep the fear he felt on behalf of the youngest Weasley from his voice. Hermione knew a lot of curses and she was a very powerful witch.

"They were saying '_mate_' together." Hermione shuddered as she repeated the word in the way that most people did when they said 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. "She was getting to say it again and again, telling him it was the 'cutest thing ever' with his accent. Well it isn't, it makes me want to scream. In fact, if I ever hear Ronald repeating that horrid word again then I'll tell Professor Snape that he's been stealing from his office supplies."

"So you're... jealous?" Understanding the nuances of the female mind was not something that came naturally to Harry, but he was doing his best. Apparently he hadn't succeeded judging by the way Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry became acutely aware that she was still clutching her wand.

"I'm _not_ jealous. Doesn't it affect you too, Harry? Doesn't a little bit of you die inside every time you hear Ron say... that word? It's _horrible_. It makes my ears bleed. It makes me want to cast a permanent silencing charm on him- every time he says '_mate_', I-" Hermione fell silent as the coffee table between them exploded. Splinters of wood flew in all directions, the tattered remains of someone's homework fluttering to the ground. Harry stared at his best friend in awe, his eyes wide. She blushed sheepishly, picking a small piece of wood from her hair. "My powers are slightly out of control."

"Out of control?" Maybe it was accidental magic.

"I've been blowing things up all day." Hermione looked down at her book and continued talking. "Actually, it's been a couple of weeks now. Every time I think about... the m word, I get so cross that I just..." She gestured towards the debris of what had, until recently, been a table. Harry could relate to the depth of her frustration.

"Hermione, I think I understand. There's always been something about Ron that made me feel like I've heard nails scraping down a blackboard. It's the way he uses it after every sentence." Hermione nodded sympathetically. "And his accent makes it ten times worse. I'd rather listen to Snape going on about potions or Malfoy talking about his precious daddy than hear Ron say the m word ever again."

"Oh Harry, I'm so relieved. I thought it was just me!" Hermione beamed at him.

"We need to do something about this. Let's find McGonagall." Harry stood and waited at the portrait hole for Hermione to follow. He felt as though a weight had been lifted. The duo navigated the halls of Hogwarts until they reached the office of their head of house. Hermione stepped forward and knocked smartly, subconsciously rearranging her hair. Harry didn't bother fixing his- he doubted there was an obvious difference since it was so messy anyway. The door swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, we have an urgent problem." The older witch looked from Harry to Hermione and back again, frowning slightly.

"I see. Is your scar bothering you again, Potter?"

"Actually, it's something altogether more serious." Hermione's expression was grave, and Harry was glad that he had allowed her to do the talking. The whole situation was too much for him to articulate. The transfigurations professor ushered them into her office and indicated that they should sit.

"Well, what's the matter? I can't help you if you don't tell me." She sat behind the desk and regarded the pair of her students over the square glasses perched on her nose.

"It's Ron- we can't cope with his continuous use of the word..." Hermione looked towards Harry and he nodded in a silent show of support, "the m word'." Professor McGonagall's eyes widened.

"You mean... the derogatory term referring to those of muggle heritage?" Her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Much worse- he keeps saying 'mate'." Harry winced and Professor McGonagall gasped as Hermione repeated the heinous term. "What should we do, Professor?"

"I have felt this way myself on many an occasion, although I've never said anything in order to spare young Weasley's feelings, but as a teacher I cannot allow my students to suffer. We must think of the greater good. This is a very grave situation, and I believe that it is only right that we involve the headmaster." She moved over to the fireplace and lifted a fistful of green powder from a box on the mantel piece.

"Albus Dumbledore's office! Albus, your assistance is required urgently in my office." Almost immediately the headmaster of Hogwarts came to stand beside his deputy, wiping soot from his robes.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger- what brings the two of you here?" Dumbledore, unaware of what bothered the people surrounded him, conjured a winged armchair for himself. Nodding her encouragement, Professor McGonagall gestured for Harry to speak.

"Well sir, it's Ron. He's been a good friend but we can't deal with the word 'mate' anymore and we need your help. What do we do?" Harry felt slightly guilty that he was betraying Ron, but every time he imagined his friend's annoying colloquialism his blood boiled.

"I have long awaited this day, Harry, with fear but also with hope." Dumbledore's demeanour was no longer cheerful, but contemplative. His blue eyes flashed in a way that indicated a brilliant plan. He held up one wizened hand for silence. "I have had an uncharacteristically mediocre idea that may in fact be foolish enough to work. If not, to put it bluntly, we are screwed."

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Harry grasped the rope more firmly in his hand, looking towards where Ron stood bound and gagged. Never had he imagined the war ending like this. He climbed the stairs of the Malfoys' ancestral home and hesitated. Ron mumbled unintelligibly by his side and the fact that none of his words, half of which were most likely 'mate', could not be heard renewed Harry's confidence. If a humble strip of spellotape could solve such a big problem, then Harry knew he could defeat Lord Voldemort. He opened the door, wand drawn, and yanked on the rope so that Ron was forced to follow.

"Point me." His wand swivelled to the left, indicating a gloomy corridor. The walls were ostentatiously covered with portraits of witches and wizards, almost all of whom wore a very familiar sneer. They climbed two flights of stairs and crossed a hallway at the instruction of Harry's wand, and he was just about to check that Ron was still managing to walk with his hands tied when a familiar voice echoed around the room.

"If it isn't Harry Potter himself, and the faithful blood traitor sidekick in my home... uninvited. No matter." Lucius Malfoy clapped his hands and several cloaked figures apparated into the room, wands pointed menacingly towards the young wizards. Harry and Ron were surrounded. "The Dark Lord shall be with us presently, but there is time enough that we have some fun before his arrival."

"Sounds good to me." Harry reached over and ripped away the spellotape. It was as painful for Ron as the next sentence would surely be for him.

"Bloody hell, mate- what was all that about?" Ron Weasley rubbed the area around his mouth, the skin red enough that it matched his hair. He watched as every death eater in the room collapsed, bringing their hands to cover their ears. Harry writhed on the marble floor, incapacitated. The redhead stepped gracelessly over his friend's prone form and leant over his host. "Oi, Mr Malfoy. Get up, mate. This is your house and Harry needs your help." Already pale, Lucius Malfoy turned almost ghostlike as the words penetrated his consciousness.

"Make it stop." Lucius' eyes glazed over and he remained sitting on the floor, unresponsive to having Ron's hand waved before his face. Shrugging, Ron made his way through the death eaters one by one, asking for assistance and invariably referring to them as his 'mate' despite their mutual dislike. When every dark witch and wizard had been taken care of, Harry gradually regained control of his mind and dragged himself into an upright position. He didn't want to encourage Ron to continue talking- the very idea of it made his blood run cold- but it was necessary. A loud crack announced the arrival of his nemesis. Ron yelped, cowering behind Harry.

"You may have defeated my followers, Harry Potter, but do you really believe that you can defeat me, the greatest dark wizard of all time?" Voldemort raised his wand with a flourish, snakelike face contorted in what could only be described as a gross parody of a grin. Harry shrugged- whatever happened didn't matter so long as he never had to hear the word 'mate' again.

"Not really, no." He watched as Voldemort frowned. Clearly this wasn't the answer that had been expected.

"Then why-" Something that hadn't happened for decades took place; someone interrupted Tom Riddle. It was the shock alone that stayed the Dark Lord's hand.

"Harry mate, you need to fight him! That's Voldemort, mate!" Ron watched aghast as his closest friend pulled a vial clearly marked with the symbol denoting lethal poison from his pocket and drank deeply. Voldemort looked on in confusion as his target fell to the ground, the life leaving his body. It was then that instinct kicked in. "MATE!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The two cries met and overlapped, but they had a similar effect. Voldemort's aim was true and Ron was hit by a jet of green light, falling in a crumpled heap beside Harry. But the damage was done- all Voldemort could hear was the word 'mate' ringing between his ears like a siren, banishing all thoughts. He rocked back and forth, back and forth, his mind irrevocably damaged.

Looking down at the scene from one of his many devices, Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief.

"All is well Minerva; two great evils have been vanquished on this day. It is tragic that young Harry had to perish in the process, but at least he will never hear that ghastly word again." A lone tear trickled down Dumbledore's wrinkled cheek. His deputy closed her eyes in pain. "Now, who's for a lemon drop?"

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**Thanks for reading. Please review. It wasn't my best fic by any stretch of imagination, but I finally vented my dislike of the overuse of the word "mate" in a bid to remain canon. I think the moral of this story is that sometimes blowing things up can be productive.**


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